Archive of Our Own

Her dream was filled with fog, swirling with mostly hidden memories that continuously skittered out of reach whenever she tried to grab them. But through them all, one thing remained: the voice of a man, so familiar and yet so distant, saying “I will find you.”

~~~~~~~

Ariadne sat silently as the robed figures prepared her for the ceremony that would be taking place that night.

She had no memory of anything before waking up in this temple among the cultists who made it their life’s work to find a way to kill the King of Darknight—the Sinner of Philos, the Mad King…

He was known by many monikers, but the one thing everyone could agree on was that he was a danger to the people who had once served him. His vampiric nature, which had caused him to live for centuries, untouched by death, was reason enough to execute him and many had tried and failed. Tonight, it would be Ariadne’s turn.

She was led toward the alter, a golden dagger strapped to her leg, said to be the only thing that could kill the Mad King if thrust into his heart.

The cultists gathered in the room began to chant as she was pushed onto the alter, hands tied, a mockery of a sacrifice. She looked up at the open ceiling above, eyes stinging slightly for reasons she couldn’t name. She had known this day was coming, but she didn’t want to die. At least not without seeing the moon.

“If he lets you live and takes you from this place, you will have until the full moon to kill him,” the priest had told her.“That is when he will have his full power.”

She would have a cycle to perform her duty, unless she were to die that night, a sacrifice to the King of Darknight.

The priest approached and took her wrist, cutting her palm. She flinched, her fresh blood smelled like copper and mulled wine in the night air, sharp against the incense burning nearby.

Suddenly, among the drone of chanting, Ariadne could hear the sound of hoofbeats. They grew louder and louder until finally the door to the temple was burst open and a rearing horse could be seen in silhouette against the backdrop of night, the rider’s cloak billowing out like a pair of wings.

“It’s him! the King of Darknight!”

The chanting stopped and panic ensued as the man dismounted, sword gleaming in the candlelight as he strode into the temple and began to decimate the cultists.

Ariande struggled against her restraints, terrified for her life as she watched in horror while the cultists were cut down one by one, some by the sword, some by the Mad King’s fangs as he consumed their blood directly from their veins.

The priest staggered back as the king advanced on him, shakily holding up a hand.

“You will pay for your sins, King of Darknight!”

“Sins?” The king’s voice was derisive as he strode unhurriedly toward the man. “What crimes did I commit to become a sinner?”

He swept his sword in a glistening arc and cleaved the man’s head directly from his body, sending it rolling down the steps from the alter as the king ascended them, stepping carelessly over the limp body.

What cultists remained alive, fled in panic. Only Ariadne remained, helpless on the alter, terror seizing her lungs so she could not breathe.

The king finally stood over her, staring down at her bound hands in something like disgust.

“This is what they offer me?” he said quietly, a bitterness in his voice that she could not place.

He raised his sword and she closed her eyes, a whimper of panic the only sound escaping.

But instead of cutting off her head, he cut her loose, her hands pulling free of the ropes.

Ariadne didn’t think. She rolled off the alter and made to run, nearly tripping over her skirts as she did.

The king was in front of her before she could even make it five steps, snagging her around the waist and lifting her off her feet.

“Let go!” she flailed.

“Stop struggling,” he said firmly. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”

Remembering her dagger, she reached into the slit of her skirt and grabbed it, twisting in his grasp and thrusting it at his chest.

He caught it in his hand, the blade slicing through his palm.

He huffed a breath, and threw it aside as his hand healed almost instantly. “Did they tell you that would kill me? Fools,” he muttered, before nodding to the sword he carried by his side. “This is the only blade in Philos that has the power to kill the walking dead.”

He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her off.

She slammed her fists into his back. “Put me down! Where are you taking me?”

He didn’t reply, simply carried her to his horse and heaved her into the saddle before getting up behind her, one arm firmly around her waist before kicking the beast into movement.

She grasped at the saddle, holding on for dear life as they galloped through the moonless night.

When her shock finally wore off, she started to fight him, kicking and clawing at him before she attempted to jump off the horse.

“Would you stay still? You’ll break your neck falling off at this speed,” he snapped.

“You killed all those people!” she snapped.

“Unfortunately, some escaped,” he said nonchalantly.

“Monster!”

“Perhaps,” he replied, seeming unbothered by the accusation. “But they are the type to sacrifice maidens to monsters, so what does that make them?”

She tried to reach for the sword sheathed at his hip and he grabbed her hand, hauling his horse to a stop so suddenly that she slammed into the beast’s neck.

“If you truly want to leave, then get off now.”

She blinked, glancing over her shoulder at him. His crimson eyes were hard, glowing slightly in the night. His long hair swayed in the breeze under his crown.

The King of Darknight was truly here, within reach, and she had no weapon. Regardless of what he had planned for her, didn’t she owe it to the kingdom of Philos to try and end the tyrant king’s reign? If she could bide her time, find a way to steal his sword to use against him, then was it not her duty to do so?

She slumped as if defeated, turning away from him.

The king reached around her for the reigns again, the hand on her waist adjusting her slightly in the saddle before urging the horse on at a more reasonable pace.

“What will you do to me?” she finally asked.

“Defile you and drink your blood—turn you into little more than a mindless slave for my harem.”

Her heart leapt in her throat as she turned to look at him in horror, but saw only a derisive amusement in his half-lidded eyes.

“That’s what you assumed I’d do, isn’t it? This…monster who has taken you captive?”

“I—”

“Those cultists were telling only the most sensation stories, I’m sure,” he sneered. “That I feed only on maidens’ blood before I deflower them and force them to serve my every cruel whim. That I’m some kind of Blue Beard with a cellar full of dead brides who haunt my castle at midnight.”

She looked away, embarrassed that she had indeed heard such rumors and at least in part believed them.

“You still killed those people,” she said. “You’re not entirely innocent.”

“Is it wrong to feed myself?” he asked. “No innocent lives were lost, I assure you. You’re better off without them.”

She stayed silent for a long moment, trying to figure out what she thought of the Mad King. Perhaps he truly was mad above all else.

“Your sword…you said it’s the only thing that can kill a vampire?”

“You’re asking if it can kill me.”

She pursed her lips. “Can it?”

“Of course. Why do you think I keep it close?”

“Is it some mythical sword then? Does it have a name?”

“No. It is just a sword.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is your horse simply named ‘horse’ then?”

“What does that matter?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’m simply wondering if you have any imagination at all or if your solitude truly has made you mad,” she replied. “I suppose by that logic, I should call you ‘man’.”

He scoffed slightly, his breath huffing on the back of her neck. “Xavier,” he finally said.

“Hm?”

“You may call me Xavier. That’s my actual name.”

She blinked, something tickling in the back of her mind. Had she ever heard the King of Darknight referred to by his actual name before? Not that she remembered, yet there was something about it that seemed familiar.

She was silent for the rest of the ride. She could only assume that their destination was the gloomy castle in the distance. Ariadne hadn’t left the temple hardly at all during her stay there, but several of the cultists had pointed it out to her when foraging in the woods, telling her that was where the King of Darknight lived, despite the fact that the village below no longer held any residents, all of them fleeing as far from him as possible.

It was several hours before dawn as they rode through those long-deserted streets. Broken carts, tattered banners, and overgrown plants told the tale of what once was. Remnants of the lives that had once resided there before their vampire king went mad with grief over his lost bride and began turning on his own people, accusing foul play.

So the story went, anyway.

Xavier trotted the horse up the long winding path to the castle and dismounted at the large front door, reaching up to help Ariadne down. She reluctantly allowed it but pulled away as soon as her feet hit the ground.

He opened the doors with a loud creak of hinges and motioned her inside, stepping in after her.

“Come with me.”

She followed him through a large open room with a dilapidated throne sitting under a curtained window on the far side, banners with Philos’s crest—the Lumenflora—hung tattered on the walls.

The corridor he took her down contained portraits that had likely once portrayed members of the royal family, but had long since been slashed and torn apart. She shuddered at the sight, feeling a sense of deep anger and grief in the action.

She turned back to the swaying shoulders of the man in front of her, jogging to keep up with his long strides, until he finally made his way to a door at the end of a hallway and opened it up.

“You can stay here,” he told her.

Ariadne stepped inside, slightly surprised to see that it was a nicely decorated bedroom, without even any dust or cobwebs.

“If you would like a bath, I can heat the furnace for hot water,” he told her.

“No…that’s okay,” she replied.

He nodded. “I will leave you for now. You may rest or explore the castle and use whatever you wish within the halls. But you must not go outside during daylight hours, do you understand?”

She furrowed her brown, but nodded.

He pursed his lips and shifted, suddenly looking slightly awkward as if he wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure where to start.

Ariadne felt a stinging in her hand and looked down, suddenly realizing that the cut the priest had made in her palm was still there.

Xavier shocked her by reaching out and grabbing her wrist. She tried to pull away, terrified that he would go insane at the scent and start drinking her blood.

“Let go—”

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it carefully around her hand.

“I need to go put the horse up. Is there anything else I can fetch you?”

“No,” she replied quietly.

He nodded. “I’ll bid you goodnight then.”

He turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Ariadne stood there for a long moment, still in shock at this turn of events, before she took two steps toward the bed and sank down on it.

She had no more capacity to think that night. Everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t even had time to process it all. Hadn’t had time to process that she was not in the temple any longer—the only place she could ever remember being.

It was too much for her that night and she slumped onto the bed, the soft mattress cushioning her and acting as a slight comfort. She would worry about her predicament in the morning.

~~~~~~~

Sleep claimed Ariadne easily and she slept like the dead, having no recollection of memories visiting her foggy mind that night.

She woke late the next day, dragging herself out of the unfamiliar bed, stretching out the aches.

She went to the vanity where a pitcher with water in it sat and poured some into a waiting bowl. A soft cloth had been left on the vanity and she used it to wash her face, taking up a pretty tortoise shell comb to brush out her hair.

There were no mirrors for her to check her appearance, but she was used to that from living in the temple. She supposed a vampire would have little use for them anyway.

As she tied her hair up, her fingers grazed the familiar marks on her neck. They’d always been there for as long as she could remember—which wasn’t very long all told. She would have liked to see what they actually looked like.

But that would be an issue for another day. Right now, feeling refreshed after such a good sleep, she decided to explore the castle.

The entire place was quiet and completely deserted. No servants, everything in a state of disrepair.

Xavier didn’t seem to be anywhere, though she supposed he probably wouldn’t be up during this time of the day.

She eventually found her way to a door she hadn’t opened yet and stepped inside the room.

It was a rather comfortable bedroom; like the one she was staying in, it also wasn’t covered in dust and cobwebs, but showed signs of having been lived in.

The curtains were drawn over the windows, but as she looked to the far corner, she saw a bed with sheer drapes obscuring it from immediate view. She could see a figure stretched out on the bed and cautiously approached, drawing back the curtain to see Xavier.

He slept like the dead, still fully dressed with his hands folded over his stomach, long hair spread across the black silk pillows. His crown sat on a dresser across the room and he looked young and innocent like this; like a prince from some fairy tale, cursed to sleep until he received true love’s kiss.

But the truth was that he was a monster, and Ariadne was still determined to find a way to kill him and end the kingdom’s suffering.

That was when she saw it—the sword he had wielded the night before, sitting beside him in the shadows of the bed.

Ariadne’s breath caught in her throat. Now was the chance. Vampires were always more vulnerable when they slept during the day. This was likely the best opportunity she would get to end him.

She carefully crept onto the bed, straddling his thighs as she reached for the sword, lifting it up and holding the sharp blade above his exposed throat.

She hesitated, frozen as she stared at his sleeping face. Why was this so difficult? The only purpose she could ever truly remember having was to kill the King of Darknight, so why was she hesitating now?

“If you intend to kill me then do it.”

She startled and glanced up to see his eyes slit halfway open, crimson pupils staring at her.

She instinctively tried to scramble away, but Xavier caught her wrist, pulling her back against him as he sat up. He twisted her arm until she was forced to drop the sword, struggling in his grasp as it landed on the floor with a deafening clatter.

“Let go!”

“Why should I? You’re the one who’s trying to kill me in my sleep,” he said blandly, seeming rather uncaring despite the circumstance.

He stood and dragged her over to the door, pushing her out into the hall.

“It’s very exhausting waking up in the middle of the day. Please have more curtesy in the future.”

He closed the door behind her and she heard a lock engage. She beat her fist against the door once in defiance, but stormed back to her own room, slamming the door and slumping onto the bed.

She would have to think of a better way to get at him. Perhaps it was best to bide her time after all.

~~~~~~~

Several days passed and she tried to find things to occupy herself in the gloomy castle. At least there was a library to amuse her, but she could only sit around so long reading before she became restless.

Xavier wasn’t a distraction either. He slept all day, and at night, he left the castle on errands, or, perhaps to find people to feed on. She shuddered, but at least he never brought them back here. He always took the sword with him, so she hadn’t been given another chance to get a hold of it.

On the day after she arrived, he’d brought her several dresses and other items of clothing so she could change.

“Are these from your victims?” she demanded, eyeing the items warily.

Xavier frowned. “No. They have simply been in the castle for a long time. But I can promise that they do not belong to anyone who has died.”

She had reluctantly changed into one of the dresses, a claret red one, that was actually much more comfortable than the rather elaborate dress the cultists had given her for the ‘ceremony’. It fit her perfectly too.

But despite the king’s seeming hospitality, she had not given up on her mission. She continuously thought about ways to get a hold of his sword, or overpower him in some way. She kicked herself for not simply taking his head when she’d had the chance. Damn her hesitation!

As the days stretched on, however, it became hard to really care about her mission. Her main concern currently was her hunger.

Ariadne had realized that there was hardly any food here in the castle—and why would there be? Xavier didn’t consume anything other than blood.

She confronted him when he got up in the evening.

“I know you probably don’t understand, but humans need to eat,” she told him. “I’m starving. I’ll die if I don’t get food.”

He stared at her incredulously for a long moment, before he nodded. “I will…make you something to eat. I apologize for not realizing sooner.”

“You’re a terrible host,” she snapped. Her stomach chose that moment to start growling loudly, making her face go red.

Xavier looked at her with a bit of amusement and took her hand, leading her to the kitchen.

He put together some stew, and the smell made Ariadne’s stomach turn. It didn’t necessarily smell bad, but her hunger was so great that she felt more sick than anything.

He set a bowl in front of her a little hesitantly, looking up at her with a small smile. “I hope it’s okay.”

She didn’t bother thanking him, simply picked up her spoon and started eating ravenously.

Unfortunately, the nausea didn’t go away even after several spoonfuls, it only seemed to grow worse. Her stomach ached, and a sense of dizziness overcame her.

“What’s wrong?” Xavier asked.

“I—I feel…”

She swayed and nearly fell off the stool.

Xavier was behind her in an instant, catching her as the castle walls swirled around her.

She was vaguely aware of him carrying her to her bedroom and laying her down, putting a cool cloth on her face as she drifted.

Her dreams were different than usual. Visions of flowers and balls, and dancing with a faceless prince under the moonlight. It was almost pleasant, like a fond memory, but she was soon brought back to reality as her stomach revolted and she found herself held by a firm arm as she expelled the vile soup.

“I’m sorry,” a soft voice spoke next to her ear, stroking her hair back from her face, before lowering her back to the bed.

She moaned and blinked as Xavier’s face appeared, blurry in front of her.

He picked up a cup and lifted her head almost tenderly, pressing it to her lips.

“I have an antidote.”

She tried to turn away, moaning, but he guided her chin back toward the cup.

“Please drink. You’ll feel better.”

She was too weak to protest, not even caring at this point if he poisoned her further and ended her suffering. The liquid smelled like death and tasted like salt and copper. She gagged, but once she had swallowed several mouthfuls at Xavier’s coaxing, her stomach began to settle and the nausea melted away into an exhausted sleep.

When she awoke something later, she found Xavier slumped at her bedside, head resting beside her shoulder. She could see the slight glow of sun outside her window, and tried to sit up.

Despite the hour, Xavier stirred instantly as she did, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Ah…you’re awake,” he said, some relief tinting his voice.

“No thanks to you,” she snapped, voice weaker than she would have liked. “Did you feed me poisoned mushrooms?”

Xavier had the grace to look sheepish. “I feel awful. I should have been more careful. Humans…are a lot more fragile.”

She glowered up at him. “Your antidote did help, I suppose. But next time, get me my own ingredients to cook with.”

He pressed his lips together but nodded. “I’m glad the antidote helped. Can I get you anything right now?”

She shook her head and turned to the side, away from him.

Xavier sat there for a long moment before he got up and left the room.

She relaxed a little once he’d left, but also felt just the smallest hint of regret. He had been trying to help, after all. It had been kind of him to bother cooking for her in the first place.

You’re still going to kill him before the full moon.

The voice in the back of her head was quick to remind her of the mission and she felt a little pit settle in her stomach. Something about the idea of slaying the King of Darknight didn’t seem as appealing anymore, or maybe that was just the toxins in her body talking.

~~~~~~~

After a couple days of rest and some very salty broth Xavier brought her, she felt strong enough again to get up.

But the castle began to feel oppressive and Ariadne longed for fresh air. The sun looked so tempting in the overgrown garden from the window in the library that she couldn’t help herself.

Xavier had explicitly said that she was not to go outside the castle during the day, but as long as she didn’t leave the castle grounds, surely he wouldn’t have an issue? Besides, he wouldn’t know anyway, he was dead to the world this time of day.

She made her way to the front door and opened it with a shriek of hinges that made her cringe.

The sun felt hot against her face and she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the brightness as she made to step outside.

“Don’t!”

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her back as the door was kicked closed. She let out a sharp sound of protest.

“I told you not to go outside during the day!”

Xavier had her firmly by the shoulders, fury on his face as he stared her down.

She wrenched out of his grasp. “I just want some fresh air! All I wanted was to go into the garden!”

“It’s too dangerous,” he snapped.

“Who is even going to see me?” she demanded. “No one dares come here!”

“I just need you to trust me!”

His face was almost desperate, and the retort died on her tongue. She huffed a sigh and folded her arms over her chest, looking away.

Xavier’s shoulders slumped tiredly. “If you want fresh air, you may accompany me tonight when I go out.”

Her ears perked up slightly. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see. But until then, please stay inside.”

She reluctantly agreed and watched him retreat to his chambers to sleep for the rest of the day as she returned to the library.

Her face and hand stung slightly and as she looked at her palm, it was a little red. She frowned, but thought she must have scraped it when she was opening the door.

It was good to know that Xavier could still wake up during the day if something alerted him. It would make it harder for her to get the jump on him, but it might also be something she could use to her advantage. Another thing to note.

She napped a little that afternoon, having felt rather tired, and woke refreshed as Xavier rose, finding her in the library.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly.

She frowned, getting up. “I don’t even know where we’re going. Should I change my clothes?”

He glanced at the simple dress she was wearing and shrugged. “It’s a mild night. You should be fine.”

Annoyance prickled inside of her and she snapped at him. “You are quite the brute, aren’t you?”

Xavier furrowed his brow, looking slightly hurt. “What have I done now?”

She ignored him and walked past him toward the front door. “I’ll wait for you to saddle your horse.”

The moon was almost half full, reminding her of how much time had passed. She stared up at it, until she heard the soft hoofbeats of the black horse trotting toward her.

Xavier dismounted and to her surprise, bowed low, taking her hand in his and pressing her knuckles to his lips in a gesture that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Is this form of etiquette more suited to your tastes, my lady?” he asked a little teasingly, as he looked up at her from under his lashes.

Ariadne tried to quell the heat rising in her face. “That is better.”

“Then, Lady Ariadne, would you accompany me for a moonlight ride this fine evening?”

His gallant words stirred something inside her and she found herself nodding.

“Yes.”

He helped her into the saddle, then got up behind her, reaching around her to take the reins.

The ride was a lot more leisurely than their arrival at the castle. The evening air was cool and felt heavenly on her face and neck. She tilted her head back unable to hide a small smile.

“You look happy,” Xavier noted.

“It’s nice to be out of the castle.”

He nodded in agreement and continued down the path to the village below, trotting the horse through the streets before he eventually stopped in front of a house.

“Stay here,” he said and dismounted, rummaging through the saddle bag on the back of the horse and pulling a sack out of it.

Ariadne took the reins, watching curiously as Xavier approached the house and knocked on the door.

She was shocked to see it open, revealing a boy probably around ten or eleven, peering up at him with a familiar look.

“Here, this should be enough for the next few days. Make sure to save some for your sisters,” Xavier said, handing over the bag.

The boy thanked him with a grateful look, bowing slightly.

They stopped by several more houses and Xavier repeated the gesture, handing over bags of food to the people. Despite the hour, Ariadne noticed that none of them had red eyes or fangs to indicate that they were vampires. What was Xavier doing charity work for humans? They were the ones who had tried to destroy his throne.

“They’re humans,” she finally said as the Mad King turned around to mount the horse again.

“Yes,” Xavier said simply. “A few of them still live in this village. I let them, and bring food to the ones who are unable to afford it for themselves.”

Ariadne began to feel a little hint of understanding. That maybe she didn’t know much about Xavier at all.

“Is that where you go every night?”

“Most of the time, yes,” he told her, getting on the horse again and continuing down the street. “Despite what many say, I do still care for my people.”

She mulled over his words as he continued his deliveries.

Not everyone on Philos was a vampire; it was a gene that many Philosians were born with, often latent until puberty unless a vampire chose to turn someone. It was said that many centuries ago, the previous king had discovered the key to immortality, but in doing so, had cursed his people to become monsters, dooming them to an existence that was neither alive nor dead, forced to dwell in the darkness.

The cultists Ariadne had been with had been firmly against vampirism, stating that it was taint in the blood, a genetic mutation that was unnatural and monstrous, and all vampires should be killed. They were the surviving descendants of the rebels who had sought to kill Xavier and his family for their crimes against the people, convinced that killing off the entire royal family would break the curse and turn those tainted back to humans again.

While spending her days in the library, Ariadne had looked for any proof that that could be a cure, and found nothing to point to it. Still, if there was any truth to it, then she would have the best chance of anyone to break the curse. The cultists had been fanatics, but that didn’t mean they were wrong. They wanted the best for Philos as much as the next person.

And yet, she had never seen them do anything to help the remaining humans on Philos like Xavier did that night.

Xavier stopped at the final house, and Ariadne watched him give the last of the food to an older woman, holding a young child on her hip.

The woman thanked him before glancing up curiously at Ariadne. Her eyes suddenly widened and she gasped.

“Your highness, I—”

“It is always a pleasure, take care of yourself, Ms. Evangeline,” Xavier told her as he quickly mounted the horse and rode away.

Ariadne glanced over her shoulder in confusion. “What was she talking about?”

“Ms. Evangeline is a bit senile,” Xavier told her. “She also has rather poor eyesight.”

Ariadne let it slide, but the woman hadn’t seemed to have poor eyesight.

Still, the outing had admittedly put her into a much better mood, she actually felt energized for the first time since she had been taken to the castle.

“Thank you for letting me ride with you,” she told Xavier a little grudgingly as she sat on a bale of hay, watching him brush his horse upon returning to the castle.

He smiled. “I apologize for keeping you cooped up. The truth is…the people in the lower village still send assassins after me, especially during the day. I don’t want them to know you’re staying with me, or they might think to use you as a target.”

“But you bring them food,” she said.

Xavier shook his head. “Not all of them are as accepting of my aid. Even though I only kill my own kind.”

It still felt like he was wasn’t telling the whole truth, but his explanation made sense.

“I will stay inside during the day if you continue to allow me to go out with you on occasion,” Ariadne bartered.

He nodded. “Agreed. I rather enjoyed the company.”

He fed the horse and shut up the stable for the night before heading back to the castle, via the garden in the back.

Ariadne watched in curiosity as Xavier knelt to remove some weeds from a patch of flowers and used a bucket of gathered rainwater to pour over them.

Unlike the rest of the garden which was overgrown and unkept, this small patch looked tended to and deliberate. The flowers were beautiful, pale blue and almost luminous in the moonlight.

“They’re pretty,” she told him. “Do you have a sweetheart you grow them for?”

She meant it to tease him, but he froze, pausing before he set the bucket down. “No. Not anymore.”

Ariadne felt regret worm through her at her words. She recalled the stories, that Xavier had gone mad after his bride-to-be had been killed—some claiming he had been the one to kill her in a passionate lust for blood. But she didn’t really believe that. There was an undeniable sadness hanging over Xavier, and who could blame someone for going mad if they lost the love of their life?

She didn’t press him further, simply crouched to look at the flowers more closely. “You’ve taken good care of them.”

“I try to,” Xavier said, then gave a soft chuckle. “Honestly, they never bloomed before you came here. I think you might be my lucky charm.”

She looked up at him and was suddenly struck by how handsome he was in the moonlight, his silver hair glowing, teased by the soft breeze.

A thought—a memory?—flashed through her mind of a silver haired man reaching down to her, asking her to dance.

She felt a little dizzy, and inhaled deeply before straightening up quickly.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yes, just a little tired.”

“Right,” he replied. “You best go in and sleep.”

She thought he almost sounded disappointed, but she was tired.

“Thank you, for tonight, I had a good time.”

He smiled softly and nodded. “Goodnight, Ariadne.”

“Goodnight, Xavier.”

As she crawled into bed that night, she watched the waxing moon shining through her window, a reminder of her duty. She turned and closed her eyes, dreaming of more strange, forgotten memories that fled the instant she woke.

~~~~~~~

Xavier didn’t leave the castle again for the next few nights, instead he would get up a little earlier and she would go to bed a little later so they would have a few hours to spend in each other’s company.

Xavier continued to cook for her, and though none of it was really good, he didn’t poison her on accident with mushrooms again either.

The next time he left the castle, he didn’t bother to tell her, simply slipping out into the night on some errand, alone.

Ariadne watched him ride away from the castle, feeling slightly alone, before attempting to sleep.

She managed snatches of troubled sleep, unsure why she felt so troubled, until she heard the door to the castle creak shut and slam heavily, hailing Xavier’s return. It seemed like a long time before she heard footsteps in the hallway, slightly shuffling, as if Xavier were exceptionally tired.

An uneasiness welled up inside of her the longer she lay awake and she finally got up, tugging her robe on and slipping out her door.

She tip-toed down the hall and knocked on the door to Xavier’s bedroom. “Xavier?”

A shuddering breath sounded on the other side, along with the rustling of clothes. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

There wasn’t an answer for a long time and then an, “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

She wasn’t interested in sleeping anymore, though. She turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

Xavier stood there, slumped over the vanity, his bare back facing her as blood trailed down his pale skin, seeping from his shoulder.

Ariadne gasped, hurrying forward. “You’re hurt! What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” Xavier gave her a guarded look, but didn’t protest as she grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the bed, forcing him to sit. Lines of pain tightened around his mouth, holding his left arm against his stomach awkwardly to relieve the obvious pain from his shoulder where a stab wound was still bleeding.

“I thought only the sword could hurt you!” she snapped.

He huffed. “A silver bolt will hurt well enough. But I took it out and it will begin to heal soon enough.”

She pursed her lips and hurriedly tore a strip from the bottom of her nightgown, pressing it to his wound. Xavier hissed, flinching as she took his other hand and pressed it to the wound.

“Hold this. I’ll go find some supplies.”

“Blood will do me better in my current condition,” he said.

“I’m still going to tend to your wound,” she insisted.

He huffed a wry laugh. “So, you’ve decided you don’t want to end my life after all?”

She felt her stomach flip. “Not while you’re injured.”

“I see. Then you’re a very poor assassin, my lady.”

She ignored him and hurried off to collect supplies she would need, fetching sheets that were clean enough for bandages and some healing herbs she’d found in the garden. She also brought some of the blood Xavier saved in his store to drink between hunts, hoping it would be enough.

He was slumped forward when she returned and she eased him upright again, gathering his long silver locks over his uninjured shoulder to keep them out of the way.

“The herbs might sting but they’ll stave off infection.”

She mashed them in a mortar and spread the mixture over both sides of the wound. Xavier gritted his teeth with a small sound of discomfort, but didn’t pull away.

She padded the wound with some strips of cloth and then bound them in place. The position was a little awkward and she realized suddenly just how close she was to Xavier—not to mention how finely formed he was. She’d never seen him in this state of undress before. On top of his lean muscles, his flesh was marred with multiple scars. Her stomach twisted with the knowledge that this definitely wasn’t the first time he had gotten injured, and without her around, would he even have bothered to tend to his own wounds?

Her cheeks tinted a little as she realized she had been staring for a long time and she turned away quickly to hand him the blood when she had finished.

“Here, drink. It will help, right?”

He nodded and took the leather skin, tilting his head back to drink.

Ariadne watched his throat bob as he swallowed and finally tore her eyes away to start cleaning up the supplies.

“What happened?” she finally asked.

Xavier shrugged then winced at the action. “A hunting party from the lower village found me.”

“This isn’t the first time, is it,” Ariadne stated.

“No,” he admitted tiredly, setting the empty skin aside, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “They wanted revenge for the ones I’ve killed.”

She frowned. “It was vampires?”

He nodded.

“Why do you kill them?” she asked suddenly. “You seem more fond of the humans than your own kind.”

“Many of them have grown corrupted, seeking blood for pure enjoyment. If I could erase my father’s mistakes entirely, then I would. But it’s far too late for that.”

She contemplated his words for a long moment, folding the extra bandages she had torn and setting them aside in case she needed to re-dress his wound.

“So, both humans and vampires hate you,” she finally said wryly.

Xavier grunted. “Yes. Like you, they wish to take my life, though I’m sure any one of them would jump at the chance to have me like this—injured, at their mercy.” He lay down tiredly, shifting to find a comfortable position. “Drive my own sword through my heart while I sleep.”

Ariadne frowned, casting a glance at the sword in question sitting against the wall by the bed.

“Would it truly end the curse if you were to die?”

“Is that what you believe?”

He watched her carefully for a long moment before closing his eyes. “If you truly believe that, then do it. I might even let you.”

His words sent a wash of sudden anger through her. “Do you want me to put you out of your misery, Xavier, is that it?” she demanded.

He blinked up at her. “Maybe. But that depends on you, doesn’t it?”

She stared at him, not at all sure how to reply to that. And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because Xavier was almost instantly asleep, exhausted from his injury.

She stared at him for a long moment, before exhaling slowly. She spread a blanket over him before she left, an uneasy feeling in her stomach that she was missing something very important.

~~~~~~

After that night of tending to Xavier’s wounds, she didn’t really think about killing him. She wasn’t sure what had changed, only that she felt more companionship than hatred toward her vampire captor now, and, really, where else would she go? She didn’t know if she had family still living or, if she did, where they might be. Xavier was all she had, and, in an odd way, he was comfortable to be around.

She had started to sleep more during the day so she could spend time with him at night. Sometimes, they would go for rides, other times, they would sit and read in the library, or tend to the garden under the moon.

One day, near the full moon, restlessness overtook her and she decided to clean out one of the storerooms a little while she waited for Xavier to wake up. She was still ignoring the voice whispering in the back of her head to kill the King of Darknight; it had begun to sound too much like the dead priest for her liking anymore and she had still yet to confirm that killing Xavier would break the curse.

She snooped around in several of the trunks stacked in the back of the room, and when she finally opened the rusted latch on one, she saw, to her surprise, that it was full of beautiful gowns.

Her breath escaped her as she pulled one out, the beautiful midnight blue silk shimmering in the candlelight, silver accents glinting tantalizingly.

There were at least a dozen gowns of the same quality, obviously tailored to the same woman.

A pit began to form in her stomach—who had these belonged to? Xavier’s bride? Had the clothes he had given her on her arrival also belonged to her? He had said they hadn’t belonged to a dead woman, but where else would they have come from?

Feeling a little uneasy at the thought, Ariadne put the dress back and reached for the next crate.

This one held various nick-knacks and other random objects, but in the back was a large, flat item wrapped in cloth. Curious, Ariadne pulled it out and started to pull the cloth away, only to reveal a portrait.

Unlike the ones in the hallway, this one was still intact, and the subject was a beautiful young woman with dark hair and emerald eyes, a small smile on her red lips.

Ariadne felt her heartbeat pick up as a ringing sounded in her ears. It was as if her body was recognizing something her mind refused to, or didn’t have the ability to. The fog that shrouded her dreams was threatening to overwhelm her mind as nausea welled in her throat.

There was something undeniably familiar about this woman and she couldn’t tell what.

“What are you doing?”

She hurriedly shoved the portrait back into the chest as she heard Xavier’s voice, spinning around to find him standing in the doorway with an odd expression on his face.

“I was just…” she trailed off. “I thought I would…”

He came in and picked up one of the dresses she had left hanging over the side of the crate. It was white with golden accents and a trailing skirt and sleeves. He had a sad, faraway look on his face that made her heart clench.

“This would suit you,” he finally said, offering the dress to her. “You should wear it.”

Ariadne didn’t know what to say. “I…I wouldn’t want to—”

“It okay,” he insisted, draping it over her arms. “It’s perfect for a midnight picnic.”

“A what?” She blinked in confusion. She had expected to be reprimanded for messing with things that didn’t belong to her, but instead Xavier was inviting her to a picnic?

He looked at her innocently. “A picnic. In the garden. Tonight. If you want to, that is.”

Brief flashes of memories stirred yet again, but quickly faded. She held the dress up in front of her, feeling the soft silk under her hands and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Yes, that sounds nice.”

He smiled, eyes glinting briefly. “I’ll have everything ready by midnight—when the moon is fully risen.”

He left the room and she stood there for a long moment staring after him, holding the dress. She felt like something had suddenly shifted and was frustrated that she could not fully grasp what it was.

~~~~~~~

Ariadne stepped out into the garden at midnight, the train of the dress whispering across the grass, practically glowing in the moonlight. It wasn’t until then that she realized the moon was full. A brief thought of her initial mission flashed through her mind before she pushed it aside, decidedly no longer interested in killing Xavier.

She found him sitting out in the grass, a blanket spread under him with a small picnic laid out on it. He was dressed in a loose-fitting white shirt instead of his usual worn brocade frockcoat, giving him an approachable look in the moonlight.

Ariadne felt suddenly shy as he climbed to his feet and made his way over to her, bowing slightly and taking her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Your tea awaits, my lady,” he said with a hint of teasing that admittedly made her stomach flutter.

He led her to the blanket and she sat down in a puddle of silk. A small bouquet of the blue flowers had been set in the middle of the blanket and she couldn’t help but smile.

Xavier reached out and plucked a couple of the flowers from the bunch, leaning in to tuck them into her hair.

“They look even more beautiful on you,” he told her gently. “Though a star needs not to be clad in such adornments.”

Her face heated and she ducked her head, confused by these feelings. Xavier had a teasing look in his eye that was so different from his usual melancholy attitude and she wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.

She drank the tea and ate the little snacks Xavier had prepared. It was odd, but the longer she stayed in the castle, the less hungry she seemed to get, at least for the most part.

The night was beautiful and a strange sense of peace and comfort came over her, sitting here like this with Xavier. She wove the flowers into a crown and set it on his head, giggling as it nearly slipped down over his eye.

He wound one of the flowers around her finger in a ring, his warm hand lingering in hers for a long moment as they lay back and stared up at the stars.

“How long has it been, Xavier?” she finally asked him. “How long have you been here alone? I…don’t remember anything from before the cult, so I only have the history they told me to go on.”

“Too long,” he replied. “But the passage of time is much more bearable with company.”

He sat up again and poured the rest of the tea into the cups, an action that seemed suddenly deliberate. As she watched the stars, Ariadne did not see him prick his finger and add a drop of blood to her cup.

“Would you like more tea?” he asked.

She nodded and sat up to drink it. It tasted a bit strange, perhaps because it had steeped too long.

She began to feel woozy, her head swimming. The odd marks on her neck started to throb and she felt the cup slip from her fingers.

“Xavier—” she tried.

He caught her, pulling her in against his chest as she clung to him, terrified, her heart racing as if it would beat out of her chest, heat burning through her.

“It will be all right,” he whispered. “When you wake, I promise everything will be well again.”

She fell into a swoon, just barely registering the stars swirling above as he picked her up and carried her inside.

~~~~~~~

In her dreams that night it was like a fog had lifted. Memory flooded back where it had been locked away, and with it came the terrible realization of just how much she had forgotten.

The silver haired man from her dreams manifested this time as Xavier, younger, more carefree. They ran away from class to sneak out and watch the stars, making wishes on the meteors that streaked across the sky.

They danced under the moonlight, sometimes, they danced in the castle’s hall amidst handsome gentlemen and beautifully dressed ladies.

She was there when he took the throne after his father’s death at the hand of the rebels, watched his solemn face as the crown was placed on his head. She took his hand as he led her up to the throne and declared his intent to make her his queen.

On the eve of their marriage and the subsequent coronation, she met him in their favorite field of flowers out under a full moon. They danced and shared their love in the fragrant field. He had made her a flower crown with a teasing promise for the morrow, and she had made twin rings, vowing to be his for all eternity, knowing that this was her last night as a human.

But they never made it back to the castle that night. Her dream was suddenly full of blood and pain. The sight of Xavier’s face, torn in agony as he held her close, begging her not to leave him.

She felt him kiss her throat before the sharp pain sunk into her skin like a brand and all she knew was agony.

The last thing she remembered was the sound of Xavier’s cries as the rebels tore him away from her, the sight of him being dragged off, bloody and broken. She reached out for him, but her voice wouldn’t come and she could feel the darkness encroaching.

“Xav…ier…”

“Xavier…”

“Xavier!”

~~~~~~~

She shot up in a cold sweat, sobbing uncontrollably. A small gasp sounded nearby and she was suddenly wrapped in a firm embrace.

“It’s all right, I’m here, just breathe.”

His voice spoke soothingly into her ear and she clung to him, pulling away just enough to see his face, taking it between her hands.

“Xavier? My love.” Tears slid down her cheeks as she took him in. “You’re really alive.”

His lips trembled and his eyes welled as he stared at her. “You remember,” he whispered.

She didn’t reply, simply pulled him in for a kiss. Her fangs pricked his lower lip and the sweet taste of his blood filled her mouth, solidifying the memories she had lost.

Xavier returned the kiss hungrily, the decades of waiting making him ravenous, but he finally pulled away to look at her again, caressing her face and stroking her hair.

“I missed you so much, my Queen,” he said, voice choked.

They spent a long time in tender reunion, whispering sweet words and holding each other close. But Xavier finally got up to bring her blood to drink, and Ariadne realized she needed an explanation to fill in the blanks.

“What happened?” she finally asked. “Why was I… why didn’t I remember anything?”

“I can’t be certain,” Xavier said, handing her the cup of blood and attentively watching her drink it. “But I believe it’s because you never had the chance to drink my blood before now.”

He sat on the side of her bed, playing with the blanket as he spoke. “You remember that night? The rebel army had been planning to attack the wedding, but a scout apparently saw us alone out in the field that night and they decided to take the opportunity when they could. They struck you with a bolt—you would have died if I hadn’t turned you then, but they dragged me away from you before I could give you my blood.” He swallowed hard. “I feared for the longest time that it hadn’t been enough. They imprisoned me for months as the rebels wreaked havoc in the kingdom and killed any vampires they could find. On the eve of my planned public execution, the last of the knights still loyal to the throne sacrificed their lives to free me. It was a bloody battle, but we managed to kill enough of the dissenters that they fled.

“But I was left with a broken throne and no bride, carrying the sins of my father, suffering for his mistakes. I truly did go mad. Everything I knew was killing, consuming blood, and ridding the world of those who destroyed it.”

Ariadne listened, her heart aching as she could easily imagine Xavier searching Philos for all the eternal beings his father had chosen to create in his hubris.

“And then I felt you awaken,” he said, voice shaking slightly. “I thought I had gone fully insane by then, but I began to hear rumors that a cult had found a weapon they would use against the King of Darknight. That she was to be the bait for a trap. I didn’t know for certain until I found you in that temple.”

“But I didn’t remember,” she said, realization sinking in. “Xavier, I’m so sorry.”

He smiled at her and threaded their fingers together. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I hurt you—I wanted to kill you—”

He caught her lips, hushing her with a kiss. “No,” he whispered against her mouth. “I was the one who took so long to finish the ritual. But now that you have drunk my blood, you are fully a vampire, no longer in limbo.” He pulled back and looked at her seriously. “Did you not suspect anything odd?”

She had, Ariadne realized, as she thought about it. The lack of hunger, the odd marks on her neck, the portrait she’d found that looked eerily familiar—it had been herself, of course. The memories that refused to surface entirely. Xavier’s kindness to her.

“I’m a fool.”

He smiled softly. “We are fools together.”

He glanced away, speaking in a contemplative voice. “I was willing to let Philos burn itself down. Without a queen I had no wish to rule my kingdom. But there are still people worth fighting for here. And…perhaps it is time to rectify the mistakes my father wrought, even if this ‘curse’ cannot be undone.”

He turned back to her, eyes searching. “The only question is, do you still wish to stay by my side, Ariadne?”

“There’s no other place I would rather be,” she said sincerely.

Xavier knelt in front of her then, taking her hand and looking up in her eyes. “Then, would you be my eternal queen? And rule Philos at my side?”

She slid down to wrap her arms around him, holding him close as she whispered in his ear.

“I have never wanted anything more, my King.”